


Averment

by TrueTattoo



Series: Winter's Revelations [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathtubs, Blow Jobs, Confusion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Emotions, Facial Shaving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Overstimulation, Polyamory, Snuggling, Threesome - M/M/M, Vampires, Witcher - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 14:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20259763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueTattoo/pseuds/TrueTattoo
Summary: The trio have to deal with the gaint mess that they have gotten themselves into.“You moved my things?!” Regis turned to Geralt, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.“Of course I did, I wasn’t about to let some grave robber take all your stuff, besides… I…” The pain that constricted around his heart must have been visible on his face. “I… I was hoping you would come back, and that you would have to visit me to get your stuff back…”Geralt looked up to Regis, who was looking back at him from behind Dettlaff.“I… I am sorry, Geralt.” Guilt flooded his face.“You are here now though.” Geralt said, his expression becoming brighter. “You are here, and Dettlaff is here. I am… Can you stay? For a while at least? It’s… well… it’s still snowing, and I know how you hate the cold, even though it technically doesn’t affect you…”Geralt trailed off, feeling awkward as Regis turned from him.“We will stay, Geralt.” Dettlaff grunted, sitting up and casting a sour look to Regis.





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [embeer2004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/gifts).

> MAN I HAVE BEEN ON A WRITING ROLL
> 
> So here have another fic!
> 
> YUP
> 
> ****
> 
> ******** As always: Beta'ed by the lovely Embeer2004!!!! ******** 

Geralt was warm. Comfortable. His nose was cold, but he was nestled in his bed, and there was a nice warm body next to him… clinging to him actually. This was the perfect way to wake, or so he thought; warm, comfortable. The sounds from outside muffled because of snowfall. The smell of winter, and the smell of a fire going in the front room. He could hear soft snoring and sighed.

There was a sharp rap at the door, and Geralt opened his eyes to the bright light. Whoever was next to him clung tighter to him.

“Geralt, it is well past ten in the… Oh… Oh my.” Geralt squinted and snorted. Then he remembered who was in his bed with him, in detail. The night previous rushed into him, and he found himself looking at his majordomo. at a momentary loss for words.

“We have guests.” Geralt said dumbly. He looked up, and Dettlaff was staring at the man, his eyes half shuttered in sleep, and Regis was looking brightly at the man from his position on the other side.

“So I see, is that… is that Regis?”

“Sorry, master Foulty, I have not had a razor in close to two months, I must look haggard.” Geralt looked over at Regis and smirked. Barnabas-Basil straightened up and smiled slightly.

“Shall I procure one for you?” Barnabas-Basil asked.

“If you would be so kind.” Regis smiled warmly.

Geralt looked between them and the surrealism of the situation bucked into him like a wild horse.

“And the second gentleman?” Barnabas-Basil asked, looking at Dettlaff, who was now just a slight bit more awake, but still clinging to Geralt.

“This is Dettlaff; he came last night. Regis arrived just after him.”

“Very good, sir. Master Dettlaff, do you require anything for the morning to freshen up?” Barnabas-Basil asked. Geralt was chuckling as Dettlaff looked at the man and stammered.

“I… Uh… a bath would be nice.” His Nazairi accent was thick and husky with sleep.

“Oh yes, a warm bath would be lovely, and some soap, as I am afraid… well, I didn’t plan this trip, and so I am without a great many things.” Regis intoned, sitting up.

“The big tub? Or shall I get the smaller one?” Barnabas-Basil looked to Geralt.

“Big one, and bring Regis’ soap from the lab.” Regis looked over Dettlaff to Geralt. “And bring my lavender one.”

“Very good sir. Does Dettlaff have a particular smell he is fond of? The Duchess sent a great many soaps here for a harvest gift; we have plenty to spare.”

“Clean, just… Just want to smell clean…” Dettlaff answered, finally releasing Geralt.

“Very good, one clean, one of Regis’ and one of Geralt’s, three buckets for rinsing, and towels.” Barnabas-Basil nodded to himself. “And clothes? We gathered all your items from the cemetery, Regis, so all of your clothes are here. Dett… Dettlaff looks to be about Geralt’s size, so they can share till we find something more fitting. Breakfast before? Or after?”

Geralt’s stomach made a loud noise of protest.

“During, actually, just bring it up with the baths.” Geralt pulled himself upright and stretched his shoulders.

“As you wish, sir.” Barnabas-Basil turned to leave, and closed the door softly behind him, shrouding the room in darkness once more.

“He seems… a kind fellow.” Dettlaff mumbled half to himself. Geralt snorted and flicked his hand. All the candles lit aflame with a quiet whoosh.

“You moved my things?!” Regis turned to Geralt, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Of course I did, I wasn’t about to let some grave robber take all your stuff, besides… I…” The pain that constricted around his heart must have been visible on his face. “I… I was hoping you would come back, and that you would have to visit me to get your stuff back…”

Geralt looked up to Regis, who was looking back at him from behind Dettlaff.

“I… I am sorry, Geralt.” Guilt flooded his face.

“You are here now though.” Geralt said, his expression becoming brighter. “You are here, and Dettlaff is here. I am… Can you stay? For a while at least? It’s… well… it’s still snowing, and I know how you hate the cold, even though it technically doesn’t affect you…”

Geralt trailed off, feeling awkward as Regis turned from him.

“We will stay, Geralt.” Dettlaff grunted, sitting up and casting a sour look to Regis.

“You and I…. need to speak at length… brother.” Regis intoned miserably, looking at Dettlaff.

“Then let’s talk.” Dettlaff spat, his tone harsh. “I am here now, not escaping, not running anymore. You have me Regis, so talk.”

“Fine, it is to be that way, is it?” Regis snarled. “Why Dettlaff!? Why, for the life of the elders would you ever do what you did!? These are humans! Fragile, fickle beings with more life in a hundred years than we can live in a thousand! You love them, just as much as I do! I know it, I can feel it through the bond! So… So why… after everything… Why did you kill her, Dettlaff? Why did… She didn’t have to die…”

“No, she did not.” Dettlaff hunched in on himself. “But what else was I to do?! I lost control Regis, something I have never done in my life, and my flock, they panicked. They read my fear at what I had done as a threat on my life… and they just… they just went after everyone! Anything! They attacked each other in fear! It’s… it’s all my fault, but I did the only thing I could to stop them. I knew why you were there, Regis, you were going to talk me down, talk me out of it. I… I had hoped… I had hoped to end it. End my pain, end my misery. I did what I had to do to end it, and, what I thought I had to do to end myself… When… when Geralt spared me…”

“You wanted to die?!” Regis was in tears now. “You wanted to die, for this woman… for a mistake?! You… You raised me from the… the.. dead… Made… me… gave me a famil… family. You gave… me… one of the things… I had lacked… that I only… got a taste of with Geralt… You wanted to strip that from me! Seven years, Dettlaff, you set aside seven years for me, healing me, caring for me, loving me for the sake of the gods! You wanted to throw it all away!”

Dettlaff was looking down at the furs, his claws kneading them and pealing up small amounts of fluff as he did so.

“You… You and he…”

“Do not say it!” Regis screeched. Geralt’s ears rang and he winced as Dettlaff turned into a puff of mist, reappeared at the foot of the bed, and started pacing. Geralt looked at Regis; he had never seen him so… desperate. He was out of the furs, kneeling on the bed, and his breath was coming in ragged pants. His black eyes were wide with untamed emotion.

“Hey, calm down… both of you.”

“You have your part in this too, witcher…” Dettlaff hissed, and Geralt felt himself drawing up.

“No… stop.” Geralt said, his mutations finally catching up and keeping him level. “Dettlaff, he loves you.” Geralt barked, the admission breaking his heart even as the words left his mouth. “Why can’t you see that! This is not him being angry at you because… because you did wrong. It is… but it’s deeper. He is afraid! He has been afraid this whole… entire… time. When… when I found you, when you were getting ready to kill me during the chase, he protected you! You, not me! You didn’t see the moon dust bomb, you don’t know my true skill, your strike would not have hit, and I would have triggered the bomb and beheaded you. He was protecting _you_!”

“Is… is this true...?” Dettlaff looked to Regis, who was still on his knees, but had curled up, face down on the furs.

“Yes…” Regis hissed. “I… am one of the only people in this world to see Geralt fight without restraint. He was giving you a chance, Dettlaff.”

“It wouldn’t have killed me.” Dettlaff’s tone had softened.

Geralt shied away from his gaze. “I would have chopped you into tiny pieces, and wrapped you in a fine layer of silver foil. From there I would have sealed the ends with bee’s wax, and I would have brought you back to Kaer Morhen and locked you in a tomb.”

The silence was deafening as Regis looked up to him, his eyes wide with horror.

“You… love me?” Dettlaff looked to Regis, who looked between Geralt and Dettlaff, panic written across his features. He finally settled on Dettlaff, and Geralt felt his heart turn to ash.

“I… do.”

Geralt looked up to Dettlaff, and there was confusion written all over his face. He made a grunting noise and flailed his limbs in Geralt’s general direction, an action that was so uncharacteristic of the vampire that Geralt laughed, but the words that came next stilled him.

“But you love him!”

There was a moment where time stopped, and Geralt looked at the both of them, neither of which were paying any attention to him what-so-ever. Regis’ look went from wounded to enraged as an inhuman call crashed through his open mouth. Dettlaff shrunk and knocked against the bookshelves, scattering books everywhere, and then splintering the shelves themselves when Regis, who’d stalked over, shoved him.

“THAT WAS NOT YOUR SECRET TO TELL!”

Inhuman calls and cries issued forth as Regis and Dettlaff began to fight. Geralt sat right where he was in the middle of the bed and watched as they clawed, bit, and raked at each other.

“OH, WAS IT NOT?!” Dettlaff screamed, throwing Regis into a heap in the corner. “WHEN WAS IT GOING TO FALL OFF YOUR LIPS? HMMMM?” Regis snarled and pounced, sending Dettlaff into the wall and knocking down one of Geralt’s trophy shelves. “YOU WOULD HAVE SAT THERE, FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS… SHY… INDECISIVE, WHILE GERALT SUFFERED IN SILENCE ALONE!”

This was escalating. Fuck fuck fuck, what to do! Geralt tumbled off the bed in a heap, momentarily caught up in a sheet that had wound its way around his leg while Regis roared, throwing Dettlaff across the bed and into another wall. Geralt just barely avoided a clawed foot. He scrambled away from the two and stood just as Regis jumped across the room before pinning Dettlaff to the wall. Regis’ clawed feet were anchored, one into the floor, one into the wall behind Dettlaff; one of his hands was anchored as well. Shit… B.B. was going to have a heart attack… When Geralt focused, he saw Dettlaff move his head upwards, and Regis pitch forwards.

“No! No, Regis. Stop!!!” Geralt shouted.

He felt like he was moving through molasses as he pitched forwards. In slow motion he saw Dettlaff crane his neck, and saw the blood rushing through the capillaries on his skin, covering his cheeks in a healthy human glow. He saw Regis open his mouth and his sharp teeth glisten in the candle light; his face awash with anger and anguish. Then he bit down. Dettlaff let off a grunt, and then his eyes half lidded. Geralt reached them as Dettlaff’s hips pitched forwards. For once Geralt wanted to be able to stop his motion, but he couldn’t. His body was already set on what it wanted to do. He grabbed Regis by his shirt collar, and his hip, and ripped him off Dettlaff’s neck. He put all of his strength into the movement, and Regis’ limbs flailed as pieces of the wall and floor came off in his grip. Regis flew across the room and slammed back-first into the solid oak door.

Geralt didn’t spare a glance to Dettlaff as he set his feet into motion and charged towards Regis.

“You will stop this madness at once!” Geralt cried out as he slammed his hands into the wall behind Regis. Regis snarled, and a light came into his eyes. _Shit! Gotta think! Gotta think! No time!_ He could feel Regis’ muscles tensing, getting ready to throw him, so he panicked.

Panic does funny things to people sometimes, and in the case of the witcher, there was no fear involved in the panic. For he was a witcher. He had two options, fight, or…

His lips slammed into Regis’ with enough force that he DID feel his own lips bruise. He felt the blast of air against his cheek, and the soft short whine when their lips met. He felt Regis’ muscles go limp and made a mental sigh of relief, until a clawed hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. Dettlaff was enraged, and fear filtered through his still rosy cheeks. Geralt had the wherewithal to check his neck, and saw only a bruise lingering still. He could feel Dettlaff tensing as well as Regis made a short noise of protest behind him.

In for a copper…

Geralt surged forwards and locked his lips to Dettlaff’s. The action put them both off balance and Dettlaff stumbled backwards. Geralt could feel him pitching backwards, the claws still locked to his shoulder. He moved his head so the impact to the floor wouldn’t break any teeth. Dettlaff hit the floor and gasped, his eyes wide. Geralt took the opportunity and dove in again. It started in his throat, as it always did. A tightening, then a shiver of sensation. It rolled out to his shoulders, then found that strange spot right behind his lungs. As his arousal traveled downwards, his mutations failed, and he felt the blood rushing into the mostly dormant capillaries on his skin and ears. He gripped at Dettlaff’s head and felt the vampire release his shoulders. The kiss deepened, and Dettlaff rolled his hips with a growl.

Geralt pulled away, the evidence of his altered state clear. His cheeks were practically glowing with blood, and his eyes, with their cat like slits, had widened, to the point where they looked nearly black. Geralt growled and left Dettlaff there, hoisting himself up. He could see Regis’ face, which had settled on shock and sadness. Geralt approached him, his arousal making him braver than he should be at the moment.

“You should have said something sooner, Regis.” He said, cupping the vampire’s bearded chin. He didn’t wait for a response before he crashed back into the vampire. His first true taste of him came then, as Regis’ arms found their way around him, and Geralt tried to press himself into Regis as much as he physically could. This is what he had needed that night at the cemetery. Physical reassurance of something he knew deeply in his heart, something he hadn’t dared acknowledge, due to the risk to their long standing friendship.

When he pulled away Regis was looking at him dazed, wanting. The vampire licked his lips, and then a soft moan came from the floor. Dettlaff hadn’t moved and was having some sort of crisis as his hand had drifted up to his lips, and his eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. Regis shot Geralt an apologetic look and slid under his arm. Geralt took the moment to allow his weakness to show, and he leaned against the door, watching as Regis crouched over Dettlaff.

Dettlaff’s eyes darted over to Regis, focused again.

“Regis… I…”

“Shut up, Dettlaff.” Regis’ harsh words were soothed by action as he stroked Dettlaff’s cheek. Dettlaff reached up for him, and Regis leaned down. Geralt felt all the tension he had been holding leave his body as Regis’ lips met Dettlaff’s tenderly. What didn’t leave his body was the arousal, which roared to life even further watching the vampires move against each other softly. That was immediately followed by a possessiveness he thought he had left behind with Yennefer.

He didn’t really know Dettlaff, not like he knew Regis, but with the short amount of interactions he’d had, minus the whole beast thing, he seemed… sweet, sensitive… very lost, and horribly confused, but under it all he could see something. A spark of a person waiting to allow himself to .

And Regis? Gods… He had been internalizing that want since they found him in the cemetery all those years ago. Regis had made mention several times along the road that Geralt needed to find a way to let off steam. Geralt had wanted Regis to help, wanted it desperately, but he couldn’t say one word about it. He didn’t say one word about it. Instead, Regis would make that wry remark, and Geralt would stalk off into the woods, or around the cliff, or to a creek where he could be alone, and masturbate furiously to the idea of the barber surgeon taking the initiative and just… well… fucking him already. He would stalk back furiously, much less ornery, but no less frustrated. Milva would give him ‘that’ look, and Regis would just smile… which would start the whole process all over again.

He had thought, when they had reached Beauclair the first time, that Regis had just not had any preference for men. When he was given the opportunity to subdue the succubus, he did so with a reckless abandon and a satisfied smirk. And Geralt was under the influence of Fringilla’s spell… and… it was a disaster.

Regis was helping Dettlaff sit up, and Geralt was looking at them, his eyes watering. Too many emotions, in too little time. He had experienced a whole decade’s worth in less than a day, and he was overwhelmed. Dettlaff was as well, as Regis was dabbing at his face with a cloth.

“Geralt, are you ok in there? I heard shouting and several crashes?” The door attempted to open and it hit Geralt soundly on the back of the head. _Marlene… shit_.

“Yeah uh… I fell. And uh…” Geralt scrambled up, and reached for the door.

“We have guests, I know.” Geralt swung open the door and Marlene immediately looked inside, gasping. “Geralt… were you… fighting? And… Master Regis? OH! Master Regis!”

Regis waved weakly and gave a watery smile.

“Oh, good heavens! Your… your room!” Marlene frowned, putting her hands on her narrow hips. “Geralt of Rivia, why on earth did you have to fight inside!”

“It’s… cold… outside.” Geralt was fishing for an excuse, and the old woman knew it.

“I should box your ears, young man.” She scolded. “You know better. And who is this dashing young man on the floor, and why is he crying? Surely you weren’t after him!”

“He was not after me, madam…?” Dettlaff looked up as Marlene let herself in the room and shooed Regis away from Dettlaff.

“You may call me Marlene, child.” She cooed. She reached out to touch the bruise on his neck. When she did she withdrew immediately. “You are a vampire, like master Regis…”

Dettlaff’s eyes went wide as panic started to build.

“Oh, no child, do not fret.” She said, resuming her examination, turning from his neck, to his tattered gray shirt. “I know of you, and vampires were one of the few that showed me great kindness while I was cursed.”

She then whipped around to Regis.

“You started this, didn’t you?” She scolded and Regis paled. “Master Regis, your mind is witty, but your tongue is much too sharp. I would ask that you keep it sheathed unless you are in a place where it can be exercised without destruction.”

Regis looked properly cowed.

“Sorry, madam de Trastamara, I will be sure to do my utmost in the future to avoid further unpleasantries.” Marlene turned and patted Dettlaff on the shoulder. “Now dear, if there is anything you need you may find me and come to ask. I will be preparing a marvelous dinner for you all tonight, so if you have any requests?”

“Meat.” Dettlaff said. “I mean… well, yes, meat. The fattier the better.”

Marlene tittered a laugh and stood up.

“Geralt, the bath is almost ready. I will be in the kitchen; if you need anything holler for me.”

Geralt looked at Regis, who was frowning and looking at the floor, and then to Dettlaff, whose cheeks turned pink, and he looked away.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up and get food.” Geralt sighed, hefting himself from off the floor and beginning to strip. “We will all feel better after that.”

Chapter 2

A short while later they were in the bath, all three of them. Geralt had heated it to just shy of scalding, and both of the vampires were currently washing themselves. Geralt was making attempts but was caught several times just watching the soap roll over Regis’ sinewy shoulders, and Dettlaff’s fairly muscular ones. He snorted to himself and began to shampoo his hair, closing his eyes against the soap that was running down his face when he felt claws on his scalp.

“Here, allow me.” Dettlaff’s voice rolled over Geralt. “Regis? You next.”

There was a grunt of affirmation from Regis, and Geralt heard the water dump. For a moment Geralt didn’t know what to expect, but then Dettlaff’s hands began to move.

“Burrs, Dettlaff, I have picked no less than fifteen of them out of my body hair alone.” Regis complained. His trek to chase the vampire had led him through some interesting parts of the world. Geralt smiled.

“Stop bitching, you have had worse. Remember the mud from the river?” Geralt asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Regis grumbled. “I don’t understand how you could even stand it. It took two days for you to calm enough to take off those muddy rags and wash them, and two more after that to actually wash yourself!”

“You are just fussy, Regis.” Geralt bit back a moan as Dettlaff’s fingers began to card through his hair.

“You are right, I am insufferable.” Regis agreed and Dettlaff chuckled behind him, warm, calm. “But you try spending fifty years incased in mud and crawled over by all types of creature. Forgive me if I have hang-ups about my personal cleanliness, at least I have a drive to keep myself in order. As a barber surgeon…”

Regis continued to prattle onwards, extolling the virtues of being clean, and how cleanliness factored into being a doctor, and preventing the spread of infection. When Dettlaff rinsed Geralt’s hair he immediately moved to Regis, who scooted himself into position without a second thought. Geralt lamented the lack of touch, but was smiling none the less as Regis turned from cleanliness, to speaking of an odd case of parasitic infection that was particularly hard to cure. Dettlaff was smiling down at him fondly. When there was a break in the endless stream of words, Geralt leapt on the chance.

“So you made toys?”

Dettlaff looked up at Geralt, surprised, as Regis leaned back and smiled, closing his eyes.

“Yes, I did.” Dettlaff nodded, turning back to Regis and smiling in memory. “After I was emancipated, I was left with an artistic talent, and no want to be around any of my kin. So I traveled. I wound up in Lyria. At first I painted for people, but then… I remembered my father was a woodworker, and so I began to try my hand at that. One day, I was carving a horse out of wood, sitting in the front of my shop, when a young boy came up to me and asked me if I was making toys. I looked at the horse, looked at him, and it’s like something clicked. I said ‘sure, would you like this one?’ and handed it off to the tyke. Oh… the look of joy on his face could have sustained my soul for a lifetime. I often think back of him, that first one. I kept track of him. He kept that horse, kept it, and then gave it to his children when they were of an age to enjoy toys.”

“My time in Lyria was short lived though…” Dettlaff frowned as he finally rinsed Regis’ hair. “There was a monster, a fiend, and it would attack women and children, tearing them apart, eating their livers, hearts, and whatever other soft meats it could get its jaws around. It killed three witchers! I was unperturbed at the time, because it was out of my control, but then this boy… I had been making toys now for about five years, selling them, giving a few away here and there. I had gotten a reputation amongst the children in Lyria as being a kind man, one that would listen to their simple problems and give advice to them, and treat them kindly. As a result one of the little boys that often hung around my shop brought me a beautiful ripe apple one day.”

“When I asked him what he would like in return, he just said that I was nice, and I deserved it.” Regis motioned for Dettlaff to turn around, and began to wash his hair. “I found the boy, eaten by the brute, which was still licking the child’s blood of its fingers. There was a drunken poacher who had been surprised by the beast as well, he’d passed out near one of his traps. I killed the fiend, and then woke the poacher and handed him a dagger I had stained with the beast’s blood.”

“Dettlaff, I think he wanted a story about your toy making, not necessarily one with a violent and bloody end.” Regis practically purred as Dettlaff worked the knots from Regis’ unkempt hair. Geralt took the moment to grab some of the breakfast that had been left and started chewing thoughtfully.

“Ah, I suppose so.” Dettlaff smiled, his fangs peaking out from his lip. “In any case, I left, the memories of the boy spurning me to find a different local. I wound up going to Kovir, and, entrenching myself with the nobility, I opened a toy shop there as well, and I learned the court. At the time Kovir was still a part of Redania and was ruled by a Duke. I wound up entrenching myself for research purposes, and wound up making toys of the various high ranking knights and of the Duchy. The winters there were harsh, and I decided that I would do better closer to my original home. I slowly traveled back down to Nazair, and eventually settled down there.”

Regis picked up the bucket and rinsed Dettlaff’s hair.

“How did you wind up in Beauclair?” Geralt asked. “Your store was…”

“We were brought here by our clan, and then I stayed here to further Regis’ recovery.” Dettlaff smiled as Regis ran his fingers through his hair. Regis sighed, his body relaxing. His body… wiry, thin. He was still stroking Dettlaff’s head, and the blue-eyed vampire had begun to speak again, but Geralt was mesmerized. He was watching the way his lean muscles were moving beneath his skin. Tensing to offer counterbalance as he carded his fingers through Dettlaff’s thick damp hair. His mouth was slightly parted, his eyes half lidded and catching the torchlight, turning them a warm brown. Now that Regis’ like for him was on the table, it opened him up to appreciate him even more. His body was reacting, reacting fiercely in a way he hadn’t experienced since the lake with Shani. The small sigh, the way his nostrils were flaring on his aquiline nose… Shit…

Geralt looked to Dettlaff, focusing instead on the newcomer. Pale skin was littered with freckles, and he was… he was physically nearly perfect. Where Geralt’s muscle was lean, barely any fat over it, Dettlaff was filled, soft. His muscles were moving under his pale skin, soft, touchable. He looked up to the vampire’s face; he was still talking. Dettlaff’s eyes were closed, and a small half smile was hidden. The bath was warm and it created a blush on the vampire’s skin. Thick eyebrows, dark lashes that reminded Geralt of Iorveth’s… and his eyes… blue like steel, and… He was still talking, talking and now looking at Geralt. Looking at Geralt, and his lips…

“Geralt.” Geralt looked to Regis. He could barely hear him through the blood rushing in his ears. He looked concerned; there was no reason for him to be concerned, thank you very much! He just was looking at the men in the tub, the naked men… in his tub. This was a very poor idea. He needed to talk to Regis! Needed… to… move… Do… something. His tongue was thick, and his skin, it felt like it was on fire. He twitched under the water, his hand reaching down…

Geralt nearly jumped out of his skin when the front door slammed open and Barnabas-Basil, covered head to foot in furs, rushed in, trying to quickly shut the door once again. He had a fine dusting of snow over the fur, and a puff of the powdery white stuff had trailed in behind him.

“Geralt, we need to shovel the roof.” Barnabas-Basil scoffed as he set down a package and quickly took his coat off. “There is rain that fell first, and it turned to ice. The weight of the snow is heavy…”

Geralt grabbed a hold of the interruption. His mind had come back to him, and he quickly activated his mutations to quell his shame under the water. He leaned back against the wall of the tub and hissed as a familiar pain found its way just behind his eyes.

“Since Geralt seems to be unable to speak…” Regis shot Geralt a concerned look. “We will happily clear off the roof after we are done.”

Geralt nodded and brought his hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching to try and relieve the pressure.

“Are you ok, sir?” Barnabas-Basil asked, finally shucking the last of his winter trappings, picking up the package and one of the towels.

“Sorry, B.B, weather has my head out of sorts.” Geralt groaned.

“Oh! Well I could… I mean… we could… I normally…” Regis stammered. “If you have the ingredients, I could make a tincture that will help…”

Geralt’s eyes met Regis’. An electric jolt went through him and he winced and turned away, frowning.

“Yeah, may need something like that.” Geralt wrenched his eyes closed as Regis’ face fell slightly.

“Would you like a shave, master Regis?” Barnabas-Basil gratefully interrupted.

“Please!” Regis gripped onto his words like a lifeline, and stood up. Geralt’s eyes flew open, were instantly razor-sharp focused on Regis’ body as Barnabas-Basil helped him pull the towel around his waist. He had only gotten a glimpse, but that was more than enough for him to lose the tentative grip he had on his mutations. Blood started to trickle to places Geralt didn’t want it at the moment, and he tensed up.

“Do not worry Geralt, we are not shy.” Dettlaff had sidled up next to him. He had completely misread Geralt’s current dilemma. His hand came up in a comforting gesture, landing on Geralt’s shoulder. Control slipped further, and Geralt felt the blood opening up the capillaries on his cheeks, ears, neck, and chest. Dettlaff’s hand was warm, no, it was _scalding_. He remembered when he had picked up Dettlaff’s severed limb, and how warm it had been even separated from the vampire’s body. And now it was touching him, radiating through him. A moan of agony ripped through him, as he drew his knees up, trying desperately to hold onto whatever shred of dignity he could salvage.

“You are making him needlessly uncomfortable, Dettlaff.” Regis’ voice raked over him, his tone strained. It had an edge to it, the same edge it had at Tesham Mutna, only this time, there was no potion involved to cause the strain. Barnabas-Basils’ back was turned as he mixed up the shaving cream with a practiced hand. Dettlaff stayed still, keeping his scalding hand resting on Geralt’s shoulder. Regis leaned back in one of the chairs, his legs slightly spread; his towel was damp and clung to him, and Geralt’s eyes traveled down. He could see him, outlined against the terrycloth, and the moment his eyes rested on Regis’ groin the vampire twitched. Regis was half hard, and every bit as impressive as Geralt had remembered him being, and he could practically see the vampire’s cock in detail. He wanted to rip that towel away, audience be damned. He wanted to rip it away, and taste every inch of what was hidden there.

“Why?” Geralt’s eyes ripped away from Regis and turned to Dettlaff. It was a perfectly innocent question, and Geralt could see that innocence written on the blue-eyed vampire’s face. Barnabas-Basil took that moment to turn around, and look at Geralt.

“Master Geralt is a witcher, Dettlaff.” Barnabas-Basil was completely nonplussed, as he took the brush and began to slather the cream onto Regis’ scraggly beard. “As such, his libido is always in overdrive. I am afraid he has not had this much exposure to friendly folk since fall began to middle.”

Geralt’s mouth went dry, as Dettlaff’s hand flew off of him like he was burned.

“I know master Regis here has experience with Geralt in these moods,” Barnabas-Basil said completely ignoring the venom filled look Geralt was giving him. “They traveled together many years ago. It’s not something he can help, and it was one of the first things he told me when everything settled down. He didn’t want me to be surprised if I caught him unaware, and as his Major Domo it is my job to make sure the master of the house has what he needs to function.”

Barnabas-Basil turned to look at the two still in the tub, and frowned. Then he looked at Regis, who was staring up at him his brows furrowed. Embarrassment burned his way through Geralt. He groaned and pulled his knees up.

“They didn’t need to know that…”

“You mean… you… didn’t…?” Now Barnabas-Basil was flustered.

“No.” The three of them answered in unison.

“Does that mean that you two are?” Barnabas-Basil.

“Yes!”

“Yes…”

“No…”

The ‘yesses’ had come from Regis and Geralt, and the ‘no’ had come from Dettlaff. Regis arched his neck to frown at Dettlaff, and a legitimate blush ran across the vampire’s cheeks.

“I see, it’s complicated then…”

“Please… just… Shut up, B.B.” Geralt was more miserable now than he ever remembered being in the past. His body was betraying him, he was stuck beside a very... good looking man… and couldn’t touch him. And the one person he had wanted more than Yennefer was splayed before him in nothing but a towel. He wanted to cry. Desperately. He wanted to curl up in a dark corner, cry, and spend himself so he could sleep the rest of the winter away and not have to think about… about this. About any of it. It was surreal.

B.B was shaving Regis now, and Geralt was not looking at anyone. Dettlaff had stopped breathing all together, which would have been disconcerting, but Geralt knew full well what he was. Regis would do the same when he was in deep thought. Geralt’s nose was full of conflicting smells. Regis’ overly herbal soap was thick in the air, as was the light lavender scent of his own soap. Dettlaff smelled like lye and rose oil. The smell of shaving cream was now becoming thick, and under that… something else was slithering in.

All was silent, except for the rasp of the razor.

“Let me trim your sideburns, then Dettlaff can be next.” Barnabas-Basil said quietly.

“Thank you, master Foulty, I really do appreciate it.” Regis’ voice was like a whip across Geralt’s bare skin. This was hell. This was everything he had ever deserved for straying from Yennefer all those years ago. He heard he scissors, and then heard Regis’ soft groan.

“I will only need a trim.” Dettlaff mumbled, and the water sloshed as he shifted. Geralt didn’t look up. His eyes were screwed shut. Agony, he was in true agony now. He needed to be touched. He needed to release, he needed… He needed something, anything. The smell, it was getting thicker, and Regis’ soft noise of pleasure as Geralt heard the warm towel rasp against Regis’ skin ricocheted through him like an arrow down a pipe as Barnabas-Basil was cleaning off the last of the shaving cream.

“He is hurting, Regis!” Dettlaff blurted. Geralt’s head flew up and his eyes opened. He met Dettlaff’s eyes and the concern and worry there wrapped around his throat and threatened to choke him. “Please Geralt, there is no shame in this, I can help…”

Regis sat upright, and the movement caught Geralt’s eyes. The towel was tented now, and Regis was gripping onto the arms of the chair like a lifeline.

“Stop this at once!” Regis called out, desperation in his voice. Dettlaff stood, slowly, deliberately; he was erect, the water dripping from him. The last of Geralt’s control snapped.

“There is no shame in it!” He said in a low voice, a dangerous one.

“Barnabas-Basil, leave.” Geralt commanded. Barnabas-Basil instantly dropped everything and hurried to the door, where he flung on his coat. He darted out the door and another puff of snow washed in before it was slammed tight.

Geralt allowed the lust to wash over him, filling his every pore. He wasn’t resisting now, he needed this, needed the touch. Needed to feel bodies around him, writhing, worshipping him as he worshipped them. But most of all, he needed to feel Regis. He needed to touch him, hold him… know he was real, that this wasn’t some sort of winter fever dream brought on by being cooped up. They were bickering. Dettlaff and Regis both, and neither of them were paying any sort of attention to him. Geralt needed Regis, needed to taste him. His mouth was watering as he pulled himself up. Dettlaff noticed, and turned to him. Geralt looked him in the eyes and something passed between them. An understanding, an agreement. Regis was ranting, his voice carrying that same edge he tried to hide in Tesham Mutna.

“Go to him…” Dettlaff said, his voice low. Geralt was beside him now, and couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out. He trailed his fingers down Dettlaff’s hips. The reaction was immediate, and Geralt could hear Regis squeak indigently as Dettlaff kicked his head back and bit his lip, his fangs visible.

“You will follow?” Geralt asked lowly, leaving Regis looking back and forth between them. Dettlaff nodded.

“Geralt! What has come over you!” Regis hissed as Geralt stalked forward. He knew full well he was looking at Regis like he was a piece of meat, and Regis was drawing up. He looked himself now; his face clean shaven, with the mutton chops he had sported earlier that year. Now however he couldn’t hide his expression behind his beard, and Geralt could see clearly that his black eyes were blown wide.

“I… have wanted you for so long…” Geralt’s mouth moved on its own. He didn’t necessarily want to confess this, he didn’t want to make the words he had harbored to himself visible. Regis stiffened.

“Every day was agony when I traveled with you.” Geralt breathed, approaching slowly; a wolf stalking its prey. He stepped out of the tub and felt the water dripping down his legs. “Every day, just waiting, hoping… And you are… here now. You. Me. And you felt the same, the whole time you felt the exact same, and… you feel the same now…”

“Geralt… please….” Regis turned away and tried to cross his legs. Geralt didn’t move to uncross them, instead he lifted Regis’ chin softly and forced him to look in his eyes. “You can’t… you don’t... want this… it’s your mutations, they… they are keyed up… I need to…”

The words slipped out in a whisper, softly, easily. They had been waiting to be said for years. Years upon years. He’d meant to say them as they traveled. He’d meant to say them a thousand times, but each time, he’d stopped, stalled by fear. The fear was gone now, pushed away by an overwhelming feeling that Geralt didn’t have a name for, that he had only experienced the vaguest hints of when he was with Yennefer… Here, with the one man that he trusted more than any other, they were right…

“Regis… I love you…”

Geralt had never tasted anything so sweet as when his lips met the vampire’s. Regis moaned against Geralt, and Geralt deepened the kiss. He darted his tongue out, asking for permission without words, and Regis, shaking like a leaf in the wind, opened to him. Geralt wedged his leg onto the chair and stroked at his cheek as Regis began to return the kiss. The movements, soft at first, turned into a fever pitch as Regis realized he could touch Geralt. His hands danced down Geralt’s sides, slipping over his scars, and finally came to rest on his hips. Geralt groaned when he pulled away.

“Geralt…”

“I love you Regis.”

“Geralt!” Regis was insistent, holding Geralt at bay by his hips. The quiet strength in his hands sent a shock straight through Geralt. “We… we cannot move into this like two love struck children, because there are not two of us, we are three.”

Geralt looked back to Dettlaff, who was still standing in the middle of the tub, now looking somewhat forlorn. The look tugged at Geralt’s heart, and somewhere in the back of his mind the memory of Istredd surfaced and bubbled. What would it have been like if instead of facing off against the man, and insisting Yennefer choose, he opened up his arms to the man. He had ‘liked’ Istredd; got along with the man. Further still, another memory popped up, of Three Jackdaws and his beautiful women. Jackdaws had openly offered for Geralt to come with them, to make merry with them, after he had rescued the baby dragon. Geralt had declined.

Was it really that simple? Could he make it that simple?

Dettlaff’s eyes raised to his, and Geralt pulled himself away from Regis, who tried to right himself. He remembered the feeling of his heart shattering when Regis admitted he had loved Dettlaff. Memories filtered through his mind of the relationships he had in the past. He was made to feel bad about his wanderlust. It was Yennefer, or no one. It was Triss (for a time) or no one. It was Coral, it was Fringilla, it was always him, being told he should only love one, and for what? What good had him trying to stay true to one person ever gotten him? His instincts would drive him elsewhere, make him seek out that which could satisfy the itch, when one wasn’t enough. Two of his and Yennefer’s fights had been because he needed her. Needed her more than she needed him. He needed the physical touch, the closeness, the sex. He had worn her raw, and she was sore. But he needed…

That’s what it all boiled down to.

He needed, he wanted, and time and time again he had it turned on its head, and then was made to feel badly, because what he needed and wanted, was not what others needed or wanted of him. The familiar feeling of not being enough, of not being loved, of people not understanding threatened to wash his feet out from under him, and now he stood staring at another, who needed, who wanted, whose love was thrown against him, and wrapped around his neck like a noose. Whose struggles to find himself to find a place, to be loved, had led him to do tragic things. Geralt saw himself in that moment. And Regis’ words rang through him like a bell.

_He is a lot like you._

Geralt nodded slightly and tilted his head. Dettlaff approached through the water, then gingerly stepped out of the tub. Geralt glanced down to Regis, who wasn’t looking at either of them. Instead his hands were knotted into the terrycloth of his towel. Geralt could see him thinking. His eyes were unblinking, staring, and his expressions were silently saying everything he was unable to. He was hurting. Fiercely. Pinned between two people he desperately loved, two people he didn’t want to have to choose between. He didn’t want Regis to run, like Yennefer had. No.

He turned back to Dettlaff as he felt the vampire’s heat through his skin.

“I can’t hurt him, Dettlaff.” Geralt said, looking at the blue-eyed vampire.

Dettlaff winced. “Neither can I.” He said softly. Regis looked up to them, fear written across his features. Geralt wanted to burn that fear, burn it to the ground and bury it. He was not going to lose another one.

“I will make this simple then.” Geralt turned fully to Dettlaff. He lifted his arm, and stroked Dettlaff’s cheek softly. Dettlaff sighed at the touch and began to shake. Geralt ran his hands down his cheek, to his neck, and Dettlaff shuddered, goose bumps prickling along his skin. Geralt moved forward, resting his hand on Dettlaff’s waist. It was only then that he realized that Dettlaff was slightly taller than him. With his free hand he guided Dettlaff down and kissed him softly.

The blue eyed vampire froze, and Geralt could hear Regis take in a sharp breath. Geralt pulled at Dettlaff’s hip, and brought them flush. He pulled away for a moment, and Dettlaff’s eyes were shuttered. His mouth was slightly open and his breath was coming in quick gasps. Gods, he was beautiful. Geralt was about to move in to try again, when Dettlaff lurched forwards, slamming himself into Geralt, and kissing him with a ferocity that caught Geralt completely off guard. Geralt found himself pushed against the table as he clung to Dettlaff, who was claiming his mouth.

Kissing Regis was like coming home after a long journey: familiar, warm, welcome; kissing Dettlaff, on the other hand, was like kissing fire.

Their hips were moving against each other now. Eager long rolls from Dettlaff, pushed their erections together in a damp slide, if a bit sticky, now that their bodies were drying to the air. Geralt’s eyes flew open as Dettlaff locked his arms around him, and he saw Regis, who had stood up; his face was washed over in confused anger.

“Get off him!” Regis grabbed Dettlaff’s shoulder, and Dettlaff released Geralt. “Please…We need to…”

“Shut up, Regis.” Dettlaff growled. Then his lips were on Regis’. He made a small noise of surprise, and his hands flexed in the air. Geralt had a few moments to stop his head from spinning, but then grinned.

Dettlaff was kissing Regis within an inch of his vampiric life, and Regis had reached up to cling to Dettlaff, blood rushing through his cheeks, and neck; a long and beautiful neck that was begging for attention. Geralt drew himself up against Regis from behind, and began to kiss him on his shoulder. His kissed and nibbled his way up the curve leading to his neck, and felt the towel loosen. Regis keened when Geralt began to suck and bite at Regis’ neck. He clung to Dettlaff as the vampire released his mouth. The towel fell completely, and Geralt could feel the muscles in Regis’ back tensing. Geralt couldn’t help it as he rutted between Regis’ ass cheeks. His body was on autopilot as he kissed up Regis’ neck and began to breathe into Regis’ ear.

“Wait.” Dettlaff’s voice cracked over him. Geralt pulled back. Dettlaff’s eyes were concerned and he was looking at Regis. Geralt couldn’t see what was happening up front. Regis shuddered, visibly. Geralt sniffed at the air; arousal filled the space, both Dettlaff’s and Regis’. Their smells weren’t so different that Geralt couldn’t tell what they were feeling, but there was another smell. Tears. Geralt was instantly sobered as he backed up.

“Regis…” Dettlaff was torn between wanting to embrace him and wanting to back up, and he couldn’t decide what was appropriate, so his hand was floating in the air between them, as Regis shuddered and released a small sob.

“Shit…” Geralt felt overwhelmingly guilty.

“I… am… am I dreaming?” Regis wiped at his eyes as Geralt crossed over into his visual field. “Please, if I am dreaming I don’t want to wake up…”

Geralt and Dettlaff shared a look. Dettlaff tentatively reached over and stroked Regis’ face. Regis sobbed again and leaned into the very much wanted touch. Geralt hesitated for a moment before Dettlaff shot him a look, and he sidled next to Regis, leaning into his side and resting his hands on the vampire’s shoulder and his thigh. Regis leaned against him too, also a good sign, but he was still shuddering and tears were streaming down his face.

“You stopped?” Regis’ voice sounded broken.

“Of course, you… were… _are_… in pain.” Dettlaff’s voice carried such a great empathy with it, that it left Geralt standing in wonder. “You are distressed, confused…”

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Regis shot back. “I sp- spent months tracking you down. Only to find you, at the one place I couldn’t bring myself to go back to… We… we slept together! Last night! And then this morning, you just blurt out that I love Geralt, after I said I loved you… and…”

“Is it that hard to believe that I love you?” Geralt couldn’t help the mild hurt that raced through him, he looked to Dettlaff, and he looked hurt as well. “Is it that hard to believe that I am not willing to let you go, now that you have really came back? I can’t lose you again, Regis...”

“Yes! Yes it is that hard!” Regis drew in on himself. Geralt leaned against him harder as his breaths began to still.

“What do you need me to do?!” Dettlaff’s face was awash with confusion and hurt. He gripped Regis’ hand like a lifeline. “Please, Regis… I don’t know what to do.”

Regis stilled himself completely as he closed his eyes. He returned Dettlaff’s grip Something was happening. Something Geralt didn’t understand. He watched them, closely, and listened. Something brushed against his mind, fearful. Another something brushed against his mind, hopeful. These emotions were not his, and he focused on them, focused on where they were originating. There was a sudden wash of anger and Dettlaff’s eyes snapped open.

“I cannot!” Dettlaff was back in Regis’ space again, his forehead against his. “I will not… Not now, not ever. This is not the first time that one has wanted many bonds at once! Nor will it be the last! It is not extraordinary! I am willing to do whatever it takes, but I will not sacrifice myself, I learned my lesson the first time…”

“But to the humans they are!” Regis blurted. Geralt looked between them, confused. He felt Regis pull away from him, his eyes were hurt, and Geralt regarded him .

“You, Geralt of Rivia… I… I have to know.” Regis was shaking. This whole conversation was taxing him in a way he had never seen the vampire taxed before. “When we traveled with one another, all you spoke of was Yennefer…”

“We broke the bond!” Regis was looking for an excuse, a way out. Geralt knew it.

“All you have ever talked about was women, Geralt.” Geralt winced and turned away. He didn’t want to talk about this. Not now… The faces, his brothers, laying in blood…

“But you knew, Regis.” Geralt said, his voice hollow. “You knew when we were traveling together… you knew I had feelings for you…”

“You were looking for comfort, and the rest were family to you, I was the stranger.” Regis scoffed, turning his eyes away.

“Fine, you want to do this right now?” Geralt seethed, his anger finally overtaking everything else. “The pogrom against the witchers, it was caused in part by the fact that we sought one another, nearly exclusively. The King of Kaedwin at the time was told by a group of druids that visited our keep, that we were… sodomites. The King planned… laid a trap… created a tournament between the Cat and Wolf Schools. We were elated, all of us, to be in one place. We didn’t have the same rules as the rest of the world, and so we would! We would share ourselves and our beds willingly with whomever took the fancy!”

Regis’ eyes got wide, and Dettlaff looked panicked.

“That’s how it was! There was nothing wrong with it! We enjoyed it, enjoyed each other.” Geralt was trying to keep it together. “But they said it was immoral, that we were monsters beyond just our mutations; we were filthy, dirty, and needed to be cleansed. They made us think that we were against one another… then brother slaughtered brother. When Vesemir figured out what was going on, he told us to withdraw. Weakened… beaten… we were set upon… We were killed for it Regis, and I have witnessed it, time and time again.”

“We are monsters, freaks.” Geralt hissed, his own fingers digging into his arms painfully. “But even still, anytime I met my brothers on the Path, we would find comfort in one another. Yennefer couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the fact that if I did see them… I couldn’t help it; that I wanted it. Sometimes more than I wanted her.”

Dettlaff had a hand on his shoulder now, and Regis, still shaking, had a hand on his thigh.

“When I lost my memories, I lost everything.” Geralt bit out. “But they were there, and… Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir, they knew my body. When I got pulled away from them by Triss, I didn’t know her, and she painted it like I loved her. So I tried. But even then! Someone would offer, and I would fall into them. It irritated Triss too, but… when we found Dandelion… and he told me about you… Something triggered. Something deep. I slept with him too. And I know now that I have slept with him on and off throughout the years. We understood each other, and our needs, but he had a reputation, and I was a freak, so we were discreet about it. Then when I met Iorveth… only a few months, but what I had with him triggered so much more. I would see a face, and it wasn’t his. I didn’t recognize it. Then when my memories started to come back I realized it was because of Saskia. I slept with a dragon, a dragon that is more powerful than anything in this world… He treated me kindly, wanted me to come with him, but I didn’t, I couldn’t. My place was on the Path.”

“And then Letho… Letho who unlocked my memories…” Geralt shuddered at the memory. “He disappeared, but then I found him again, hiding. He poisoned himself. By that point I remembered you, remembered you in clear detail. You were dead, dead because of me. And Letho… I thought him dead. Dead again because of me… and I lost it… I killed everyone. I stayed with his corpse, or what I thought was his corpse. And when he came to? Gods…”

“Geralt… I… didn’t know…” Regis shuddered, his hand moving in comforting swirls on Geralt’s thigh.

“You did know though!” Geralt snapped. “Every god damn time I would get wound up, and just want you to lay into me, you would tell me to go into the woods, let off some steam. It wasn’t Yennefer I was thinking about as I spent myself against a tree, the rocks, the grass. It was you! I didn’t tell you any of this because damnit, we had a spy, who wasn’t a spy. Cahir! He was there to try to put himself to rights, and yes, he did right in the end, and yes, I feel poorly about his death, but if he were given a chance, he would have taken Ciri, and he certainly would have said something if I had regaled my tales to you. Dandelion would have been ruined. So I couldn’t! I wanted to… but I couldn’t trust anyone! Least of all myself…”

“Oh, Geralt…” Regis’ voice was full of emotion, but Geralt had to lay everything out on the table, it was now or never.

“And then, Beauclair…” Geralt hissed, trying but failing to haul in his hurt. “We arrived there and we had a short amount of time. And I tried, several times, to get you alone, but you never would allow me to. Someone was always there… and then… when we were taken before the Duchess… Fringilla charmed me, put a spell on me, seduced me, and I could do nothing but think I wanted it. Instead of trying to break me out of it, you took on the succubus. And then it was me with egg on my face thinking that maybe I had misread you! We spent months here, months I didn’t want to spend, and when I finally broke the spell, you sat there with a smug superior look on your face, and then proceeded to tell ME that you wouldn’t be rushed!”

Regis looked crestfallen.

“I was hurt.” Geralt hissed, drawing in on himself. “I was so hurt I ignored the warning signs. Your panic, the desperation that was filling us all as the winter raged around us. You stopped talking, _we_ stopped talking. And I was embittered, and finally starting to see the end of the tunnel. I was heading to my death and I knew it. And… when it… when it happened…”

Geralt did sob this time. He sobbed as the words flew out his mouth and caught in the ears of the vampires.

“I saw you, heard you.” Geralt snarled through the tears. “I was on the wall, my life was done. Yennefer was being slowly crushed. And you, you rushed in. I remember every… single… agonizing moment. I remember your words as I told you to watch out… ‘Beware? I didn’t come here to beware!’ And then you jumped… And I screamed. I screamed so loud and long that my throat still bears the scars… and then you, you screamed, and my ears burst. And then…. nothing… We fought, but I remember little, all I remember is pain after pain, and I still got up. Still fought. And in the end? I got him. I killed him. And then I obliterated every bit of his body… Yennefer knew it then. She asked me who you were. She saw it, the pain… the grief. And you know the only thing I could bloody well say? Because it was the truth? ‘He was a friend, the epitome of humanity… I… LOST you.” 

Regis moved to embrace him, but Geralt held up a hand.

“I spent weeks after that, trailing after Ciri, getting Dandelion out of trouble, seeing to the ghosts of the past, only to have Yennefer, the supposed love of my life, insist… INSIST on taking Ciri from me again!” Geralt seethed, tears streaking down his face. “I HAD NOTHING.” He howled. “Everything I had ever loved had been ripped from me: my brothers, my friends, my traveling companions! MY God damned daughter… and you. I couldn’t take it anymore. There were riots, and I threw myself into them. I killed. I killed so much that they lost count. And in the end, when I couldn’t raise my sword anymore? I let them kill me…”

Geralt took Regis’ free hand then and squeezed it, hard.

“Ciri, she saved me, and then locked me on an island with Yennefer to recover.” Geralt seethed. “I lost myself then. Did things I am not proud of… and, nearly seven years later… I travel down here, and… you? You were here? You were dead! And now you weren’t, and then Dettlaff? You protected him from my blows… All I could think about was how much I had missed you, how much I wanted you. And you turned from me. Danced around me. You put me to god damned sleep when I started to hit close to the mark. You… left… ME… You left me! You said that it wasn’t my fault that I didn’t know you were alive in the castle, and had I had known I would have saved you! But then, you were here, and you didn’t even look for me…”

“I thought you had Yennefer…” Regis said weakly. It was a poor excuse, and Geralt knew it, and Regis knew it.

“I didn’t! And you didn’t find me to ask! Why? Why Regis, why did you leave me in the dark, mourning you, mourning everything…” Geralt looked to Dettlaff. Dettlaff was looking on in a mixture of horror and sadness. “And then him!” Geralt choked. “Here is this fellow, who took you and healed you, gave you everything he had, and fell in love with you. You told him you were in love with me…”

“It… was never meant to be that complicated…” Regis sniffed miserably. “I thought that if I told him, he wouldn’t pursue me…”

“And in the end what did it do? It drove him to do terrible things.” Geralt hissed. “He was alone, afraid, and the two people he had loved, had shunned him. He thought he was alone! And he was! You came down here because you… somehow felt he was in trouble… but instead of actually finding him, you crept around in the shadows, watching. And when I showed back up, you, to him, seemingly flew back into my arms. He didn’t know you were trying to endear him to me. He saw another lover, running away to something better! It all makes perfect sense now!”

Regis turned to Dettlaff, his eyes wide.

“Is… is what he says the truth?” Regis asked.

“Is it not the truth?” Dettlaff turned his head, frowning. “You know me Regis, better than anyone has ever… How was I supposed to take you suddenly hanging around with the witcher the second he showed back up?”

“I…” Regis for once was at a loss for words. Silence fell into them. Geralt sighed and stood up. Dropping Regis’ hand. He looked at Regis, looked at Dettlaff and shook his head. He turned to his room.

“Where… where are you going?” Regis called out, his voice watery.

“Need to shovel the roof.” Geralt hissed, and then slammed the door shut.

Chapter

It was bitterly cold, and the snow was still falling. Geralt had bundled himself into every piece of winter clothing he could find, and was now paying for it. The steam of his breath was turning into ice, sticking to his beard, and his sweat-marred brow was freezing his forehead. He had started shoveling the snow in a clear path from the house to the well, following the quickly filling footsteps of his servants that were now in the house setting everything to rights. He sprinkled salt and his own special blend of ice-melter on the ground as he went so the path would remain damp, but clear.

Then he decided that there needed to be a clear path down to the servants’ quarters so Marlene wouldn’t hurt herself coming up to the house. Children were playing, and more than once he was offered hot mulled wine, which he took gratefully from the hands of rosy cheeked workers. He was reveling in the physical labor. Working his muscles, burning off as much of the stress he had been under as thoroughly as he could. He was embittered, and his swirling thoughts were caustic and biting. He flung himself into his work to try to forget, but in the silence of the snow, it was all he could hear.

Now he was up on the roof, and the sun, hidden behind the storm clouds, was making its early descent. He had been out here for hours. Barnabas-Basil came to check on him once, then had left him alone after a grunt confirmed he was alive and wasn’t freezing to death. The ice hid the fact that he had been crying, faced with all manner of hell his mind thought to bring to the forefront. Witchers didn’t cry, they didn’t know how. Or so the old adage went…

He heard the door to the house shut, and knew someone was coming. He didn’t acknowledge them. Their footfall didn’t make any sound, and there was no snow crunching beneath feet. He continued to shovel the snow off the roof of the estate.

“You have been up here for hours…” It was Regis. Geralt only paused momentarily to see if he would continue onwards, and when he didn’t he resumed his task. He waited, and Regis hadn’t moved.

“Geralt, we need to talk…”

“Where is Dettlaff?” Geralt growled, flinging snow off the roof.

“He is asleep, and has been for some time.” Regis stated, calmly, rationally. Geralt refused to speak further. The steady fall of snow and the silence it created was deafening.

“Do you know why I drank?” Regis had sat down on the slope of the roof. Geralt turned to him using the shovel to balance his body. “Because no matter what I did, I could never find the courage to do what I needed to do, when I needed to do it.”

Geralt looked at him; he was bundled in furs from head to foot, and his breath was coming in shallow puffs of steam.

“Because, despite the way I put on airs, I am hopelessly inept when it comes to everything outside of my area of expertise.” Regis said, his shoulders hunching. “I, especially when faced with the idea that I may be important to someone, write it off as a fluke. I think I am seeing things that I desperately want, but surely no one finds me important. I dance around things and hide, and in general am the largest coward you will ever meet on this earth.”

“But I thought you were the expert on everything?” Geralt chided. Regis looked up then, a small smile gracing his lips. Geralt felt the tension he had been holding leave his body.

“And then, I was faced with a situation I had never thought would come to pass. Two people, that I loved, at odds.” Regis sighed. “Two people, who I didn’t think would love me in return, were getting ready to tear each other apart. I did what I thought I had to do. I watched from the shadows because I cannot confront. I have tried, and I get so afraid that it makes me freeze. The blood helped with that, for a time. Till I realized it was a crutch. Even then, I took the crow’s blood into me before Tesham Mutna to make me brave. I wanted to run then, but… then… I could smell you, Geralt. You wanted me. We rode together to Tesham Mutna, and I could feel you against my back, and it nearly drove me to madness. I made my decision then. I would stand by you, no matter the cost, but it would have torn me in two…”

Regis looked up to him, his eyes full of feeling.

“And then you spared him… You spared the other one I loved. The one I thought obsessed with a woman, who he loved more than me, and I didn’t know what to do. I needed to find him. I needed to set things to rights… but… you got put into prison and I had to get you out. Everything happened so quickly, and I couldn’t bear to choose you over him a second time. I thought he was going to die, and now that he wasn’t, I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do. I didn’t want to choose. I couldn’t… so I put you to sleep, and left to try to find him, to make sure he was safe.”

“When I thought he was going to kill you last night, I made the choice again. Choosing you.” Regis sighed. “He didn’t know that, and I won’t tell him, because you made the choice for me. You chose us both; instead of shoving him away, you embraced him.”

Geralt moved down to sit beside Regis as he worked his gloved hands together.

“I watched you sleeping.” Regis admitted shallowly. “The way you laid with him, how he carded his hands through your hair. Black and white. Perfect. Then I thought wildly that he had been here before, that somehow he had endeared himself to you. That you two had formed something, while I was left behind… and I panicked… but… everything happened this morning… and the kiss, you kissed me… then him… then the bath… and… I was overwhelmed… and I am confused. I…”

Tears formed in his eyes. Geralt moved to embrace him.

“I love you both!” Regis cried out. “Truly, deeply, with everything my shriveled soul has. I can’t make the choice because every choice I have would wound someone else… and…”

Geralt quieted Regis by kissing him. Regis keened into the soft touch, and Geralt pulled away.

“I am not asking you to choose.” Geralt said softly, stroking his face with a fur gloved hand. “All I ask, is that you understand. I am ok with you loving him, and I can see myself loving him as well, with time, and care. Dettlaff is a broken soul, who needs stability. He loves you Regis. I can see it in every movement he makes. He needs you, and I need you. And I cannot fault someone for loving you. Not when I...”

Geralt choked on the words. The words that had come so easy in a moment of passion were threatening to drown him.

“I love you… Regis…” Geralt choked out. “It took me losing you… twice… to make me realize that… I can’t be without you. And if you come with another… then so be it… I will not steal another’s love out of selfishness. I did it once, and I have regretted it every day since.”

Geralt didn’t get the chance to expound on his thoughts. Instead Regis was pressed into him, straddled over his hips, pushing him down onto the roof. His lips crashed against Geralt’s and the heat of his skin created a damp patch on Geralt’s chin where the frost on his beard was now melting. Geralt tasted the rain on Regis’ breath. The rain, and Dettlaff. His body began to heat up; it was already warm under the layers, but now it was an inferno, and he was trapped. He wanted to feel Regis’ skin, touch him…

Regis pulled back, sighing, a the steam from his breath momentarily masking Geralt. Geralt felt a warm wave of comfort pull over him as Regis studied him. Warmth, and home. It was beginning to get darker, and Geralt yawned.

“You have been working out here all day…” Regis sat up suddenly. “You must be… exhausted.”

Geralt couldn’t deny it. Between the mental torture he had put himself under after he had left Regis and Dettlaff, and the hard physical labor for hours on end, he felt like he had been fighting a band of wrathful kikimores all day.

“Come, let’s get you inside, and warm.” Regis pulled himself upright, and then pulled Geralt up as well. “There are still a few hours before Marlene said dinner would be ready… why don’t you rest for a bit.”

Geralt nodded shallowly.

After a quick trip to the outhouse, Geralt and Regis walked inside the villa. Barnabas-Basil was there and was instantly helping Geralt out of his gear. Geralt cast Regis a glance when he didn’t move to remove his own coat.

“Geralt, why don’t you rest for a bit, I need some time to… well, to think.” Regis admitted, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“You aren’t running are you?” Geralt looked over at Regis tiredly, a small snake of fear running through his gut.

“Yes, in a way I am.” Regis admitted. “But not far. I think far better when my hands are busy. I will be down in the lab for a few hours, I need to… process this. Think about the best way forward. We vampires, we do not have the same hang-ups as humans do… however, throughout the years I have picked up on one or two of the more… burdensome ideals. I need time to think Geralt, that is all…”

Geralt nodded and looked at the floor. A soft gloved hand lifted his chin.

“Do not brood, .” Regis reached over and kissed Geralt. It was soft. Softer and held more deep feeling than Geralt had ever experienced. It was tender, and packed full of support. Geralt felt his tension drip out of him, leaving tiredness in its wake. “I will be back in time for dinner.”

He pulled away and then began to adjust his coat and his gloves. Barnabas-Basil hung up Geralt’s coat, and then turned to Regis.

“Do you need anything for the labs, master Regis?” Barnabas-Basil asked.

“No, not right now, thank you Barnabas-Basil…” Regis turned to Geralt as he reached for the door. “I will see you shortly, Geralt…”

Geralt winced as the cold air hit his sweat damp skin. All was quiet.

“Hey B.B, gonna take a nap.” Geralt said, feeling empty and full at the same time.

“Very good sir, I shall wake you for dinner.” Barnabas-Basil smiled at Geralt. The smile was knowing, and sad. Geralt couldn’t look at it, and turned to open his door.

He had forgotten that Regis had said Dettlaff was resting. He quickly and softly shut the door, and ignited a single candle, washing the room in a dim warm light. Dettlaff was indeed sleeping. It was the first real look Geralt had at the vampire. Geralt let his eyes travel over what was peaking out of the furs.

Dettlaff was handsome, and in his sleep, the lines of worry he constantly wore on his face softened. His hair was an unruly mess of curls now that it was drying, and it haloed his head in soft black. He had a beard, still untrimmed, and it was just as black as his hair. His mouth was slightly open and he was curled up on his side, one leg outstretched, and the other brought up. He looked peaceful.

Geralt slipped into the bed and under the covers, moving slowly so he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping vampire. He adjusted himself for a bit, and was having issues finding a good position when suddenly a pair of strong arms locked around him and brought him into his embrace. Geralt stiffened for a moment before he realized that Dettlaff was still sound asleep. Geralt was pressed up, with his head under Dettlaff’s chin, and his over-warm body, up against Geralt firmly. Geralt sighed, and relaxed. His last awareness before he drifted off were of the soft breaths tickling the top of his head, and the strong hands kneading at his back.

He was safe. He was secure, and he knew, that somehow, someway, they would figure this out.

CHAPTER 4

Dreams. His mind was filled with ghostly hands brushing over his body, pressing into him. Kissing him, kneading him. Fire raced through him, the fire of need, of want. Hands brushed over him, and he saw the forms take shape. Regis…

“You are beautiful…” Regis whispered as Geralt called out in his dream, keening as the hand stroked him softly, deftly. Geralt reached out to cling to him and found his mouth drawn to the vampire, kissing him, licking him. Tasting every inch of him. He wanted him, wanted to suck him. Wanted to feel his cock in his mouth, pulsing, and choking. He took him in, and looked up. Regis whined, his eyes snapping shut.

“Look at how pleased he is.” Another voice, Dettlaff. He felt the vampire, moving against him. “Look at what you do to him Geralt… look at what you do to me.”

Geralt looked over, and gasped. Dettlaff was stroking himself. He felt himself drawn up between them. Pressed between hard bodies, his whole body felt like one giant nerve.

“Let’s give him what he really wants…” Regis purred in his ear.

“With pleasure…” Dettlaff growled.

Pain… roaring pain then… oh, oh gods… they were biting him. Holding him… he couldn’t move… he couldn’t breathe. He was so close! So close…

Reality swept in and he was pressed against a body, a real one. One that was releasing a whining . Geralt was hard, and the smell in the room… it was amazing… In dream addled lust he thrust up against the body. The body, firm and hot, responded in kind, and arms wrapped around him. Geralt looked up… then reality fully opened his eyes.

“I can help.” Dettlaff purred, his moo- bright eyes nearly overtaken by black in the dark.

“I… Regis…” Dettlaff smiled, looking slightly crestfallen as he released him. No… no no… need….

“Both… need… both.” Geralt was shaking now.

His body had finally gotten to the point where he needed someone, anyone. Normally once he got to this state he would stumble his way to the Belles, and pay for a night with whichever girl had the highest stamina; but they were snowed in. It was always like this, ever since his second round of mutations. He needed sex, needed it in a way that had always vaguely put him ill at ease; it why he and Eskel had traveled together for so long… Eskel. Geralt groaned, and he snapped Dettlaff’s hand back, placing it firmly on his cock. He whined at the contact, his breath coming in panting gasps.

“He is coming.” Dettlaff assured, hesitating as Geralt flipped himself on his back, and made to kick off the covers. He was hot. Too hot. It was always like this. The hand found him again as he freed himself, and Geralt kicked back his head at the too light pressure of Dettlaff fondling him clumsily through his thin underclothes.

The door to the outside opened and closed. Then the bedroom door opened. The smell of food wafted in, and Marlene’s voice carried through the house.

“Just have an hour to go boys…” An hour. He looked up and Regis was shadowed in the doorway.

“Close the door, Regis.” Dettlaff hissed. “He is hurting… I…”

The door shut, and Geralt looked up to Regis.

“Please…” Geralt had tears running down his cheeks now. He was on fire, he needed touch, but he didn’t want to make Regis angry by fooling around with Dettlaff. He was so torn mentally and physically; he didn’t know what he needed to do.

“I… don’t know what to do!” Dettlaff’s confused cry came. “I… He… He needs our help…”

“Calm yourself.” Regis chided softly. “Geralt….”

“Mutations… do this…” Geralt was in agony, his body wasn’t his own, it never was when he got like this.

Regis disappeared for a moment and then a second later reappeared. Geralt gasped; he was nude. He didn’t know Regis could do that, and now he stood at the foot of the bed, his cock quickly turning heavy and lengthening with blood. He was looking between Geralt and Dettlaff, his expression pensive. Geralt could see the words, feel them filtering off of Regis. He wanted to say something…

Instead he moved forward, his knee on the bed.

Geralt couldn’t control himself any longer. He lurched forward and grabbed Regis, spinning their positions. He needed to taste him, smell him. He slammed him down on the bed, and Regis called out, his limbs flailing, as Geralt pinned him down with his hands.

“Geralt… what are you… oh… gods…” Geralt found his prize. He buried his nose in the soft hair around Regis’ prick and nuzzled it, breathing in his scent like a man snorting fisstech. His mouth was watering, he wanted to taste it. He didn’t waste any more time. He took Regis’ swiftly filling length and sucked it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks. Ambrosia raced over his tongue as Regis pulsed against him, his precum, salty, bitter and tasting exactly how the vampire smelled, hit Geralt’s tongue and he convulsed. He felt Regis’ clawed hand rake through his hair as he sucked him. This is what he needed, what he wanted. This taste. The choking feeling of taking him into his throat while he swallowed.

He was growling, and he looked up as he began to move his head. Regis looked nearly hurt, his mouth was open and his face was flushed. Through the side he saw Dettlaff come up and take Regis’ free hand and begin to kiss it. Regis called out.

“What… what are you…” His eyes rolled back when Dettlaff took Regis’ fingers into his mouth and rolled his tongue over them. The grip on his head tightened and Geralt moaned as he watched. Fucking hell. He felt himself leaking into his braies. There was an audible pop, and a dark chuckle from Dettlaff that sent shivers down his spine and straight to his cock.

He felt the bed shift and Dettlaff was up at Regis’ mouth. Regis growled and pulled him in. Geralt watched as they warred against one another, their kiss passion incarnate. Regis growled, and his voice rolled over Geralt, husky, debauched. Dettlaff yelped as Regis pulled him off, his hands gripping into his hair.

“Tell me what to do… Regis….” Dettlaff husked panting. “Please….”

“Remove your clothes, then remove his.” Geralt didn’t expect that. He looked up to Regis, who was looking down to him, all hesitation gone; the earlier look on his face replaced with a smirk. Dettlaff swiftly complied, doing the exact same thing Regis did; he disappeared, then went to Geralt. Geralt couldn’t see what he was doing, but felt his hand brush against his cock as Dettlaff untied the small leather lace that held the loose fitting braies on. He pulled them down, then gingerly slid them off. Geralt sucked harder. He was exposed, and Regis tasted divine. His jaw was aching in the best way possible, as he licked and sucked at Regis.

“He is leaking so much.” Geralt felt Dettlaff’s hand gather what was flowing from him. “Is it always like this for human men?”

Regis pulled Geralt off of him and wrenched his head.

“Look at him, Geralt.” Geralt could do nothing but, as Dettlaff sniffed the sticky substance draped between his fingers. He couldn’t help but moan as Dettlaff slowly put them in his mouth and his eyes shuddered. Dettlaff’s cock twitched and he too was leaking as he sucked his fingers.

“Let him taste himself.” Regis cooed. Geralt’s mouth watered.

Dettlaff put his fingers out and Geralt pulled away from Regis. He licked at the fingers, making a show of it, Dettlaff’s eyes widened and the smell surrounding him increased. He then took Dettlaff’s fingers in his mouth and rolled them along his tongue. It was a fun game, cleaning off Dettlaff’s fingers. Geralt could feel his claws scraping dangerously along his tongue as he sucked at them. Dettlaff was shivering. Geralt smirked and licked between his fingers, causing Dettlaff to groan.

He felt Regis grab his hair once more and the fingers popped free.

“That is quite enough of that.” Regis chided, tsking with his tongue as Dettlaff withdrew his hand like a man burned. “Our patagium, the place where the skin of our wings appear is very sensitive. It has to be, if it weren’t flight would be a chore. It’s why we wear gloves Geralt.”

Geralt frowned. His hands were sensitive too.

“Do you have oil?” The question knocked Geralt off guard. He blinked owlishly at Regis.

“Got blade oil; over there, near the desk.” Geralt grunted as Regis pulled him flush with his body.

“Dettlaff, find it please.”

Dettlaff was off the bed like a shot, and Regis pulled Geralt up so he was nose to nose.

“You would not be able to fathom how long I wanted this.” Regis nuzzled his head, stroking it. Geralt groaned into the soft touch, and rubbed his cheek against Regis’ before leaning in for a kiss. Geralt couldn’t help the happy noise that escaped him. Regis’ grip shifted, turning soft.

“How do you want it, love?” Regis purred as Geralt pulled away.

Geralt felt himself burning. He wanted to be filled… He wanted to be fucked blind. He didn’t know how to voice it… He looked up to Regis, his ears, chest and neck suddenly reddening with embarrassment and arousal.

“I… I want to be… I want you… inside me.” Geralt choked out. This was happening… it was happening!

“Surprising.” Regis looked like he was pondering something.

“I mean… if you don’t want to…”

“Oh, no no.” Regis patted Geralt’s chest. “Here, let’s shift. I was rather hoping to be to be filled as well.”

“You…” Dettlaff was off to the side, with the cork to his sword-oil off. He was grinning wickedly.

“Dettlaff, over here please.” Geralt cocked his head as Regis pushed Geralt up. “Geralt, lay down on your back…”

Geralt did so, and his body began to shiver. He felt Dettlaff’s weight on the bed and shuddered when the other vampire appeared by Regis’ side. Regis caressed Dettlaff’s face, and the warm expression that flitted over him caused Geralt to whimper.

“Prepare me, love.” Regis addressed Dettlaff. When Dettlaff heard those words, his expression softened, and he inhaled. Geralt felt his eyes stinging with tears.

“See, he loves you Dettlaff.” Geralt choked, his own body warring between emotions. Dettlaff looked down at him, his expression caught between agony and wonderment. Geralt smiled through his tears, and Dettlaff choked, as his own flew forth. Regis’ expression turned soft, wondering, as he looked from Geralt to Dettlaff.

“I love you… I love you both…” Regis choked. Dettlaff kissed him tenderly on the shoulder, then reached around with his oiled hand, and began to stroke Regis softly. Regis called out and his back arched against Dettlaff. The sight was beautiful. Geralt cried out as Regis gasped and his hips moved with the strokes of Dettlaff’s fingers. Soon though, the view was over, and Dettlaff growled as he oiling himself up. Geralt turned and Regis leaned forward; he stroked at Geralt’s dick, and gathered some of the precum that flowed through it to ease his hand’s passage. Geralt keened, his voice going up a full octave. Regis smiled.

“You are beautiful.” Regis said, his voice low as he leaned down and kissed Geralt. The storm washed over Geralt once again. He grasped at Regis, running his hands through his thickened hair; stroking at his arms, and eventually at his sides. Regis hissed and bucked against Geralt, his cock sliding along his hip deliciously as he plundered Geralt’s mouth. Hot breath rushed against them both through noses, as they panted, not wanting to separate.

The kiss was broken when Dettlaff bit into Regis’ trapezius muscle, causing him to call out. Dettlaff was looking at Geralt as he bit and sucked; he had drawn blood. Regis, meanwhile, was lost to the sensation. Dettlaff reached out and stroked Geralt’s bearded chin.

“Are you ready?” Dettalff asked, releasing Regis’ shoulder, leaving the other vampire gasping for breath on top of Geralt. Geralt could only manage a nod as he watched a thin trickle of crimson trail its way down Dettlaff’s lips. His mouth watered at the sight.

Regis shifted, and his hand traveled down once again, and Geralt keened as he felt pressure against his asshole. He looked up to Regis, who was looking down to him with tears in his eyes.

“Please Regis…” Geralt’s body couldn’t take much more of this. Regis pushed forward, the pressure becoming nearly painful. Geralt was resisting on purpose, he wanted to feel the sting. He wanted to feel every inch of Regis. Regis grunted, and his hand directed him.

Geralt’s eyes widened and he called out as Regis entered him, sinking deep with a smooth slow stroke. Geralt felt himself pulse, and then orgasm raced through him.

The pleasure blinded him as he drew his hips up and clung to Regis. The smell washed over him, the smell of his cum, as it flooded between them. Regis made a dismayed noise and moved to pull out, but Geralt locked him in, creating a prison with his legs. He pulsed around him, and he had never felt anything so right in all his years. Years of wanting Regis, years of yearning.

“Please…” Geralt begged as his body pulsed against Regis. “Please Regis… Dettlaff..”

Dettlaff’s hand was on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch, panting from pleasure, tears still rolling from the corners of his eyes.

“Are you ready, Regis?”

“Yes, love…” Regis intoned, his breath husky, his body shivering against Geralt’s.

Dettlaff moved up, and then Geralt felt hands carefully unlocking his legs. Dettlaff used Geralt’s thigh for balance, and Geralt could feel Regis stiffen. Geralt snuck his hand between them and felt Dettlaff’s cock, thick and warm and oiled, pressing against Regis.

“What are you…” Dettlaff’s voice was shaking. It sent shivers straight down Geralt’s spine, and sent a pulse to Geralt’s cock.

“I want to feel you.” Geralt husked, his fingers playing with Dettlaff’s head. “I want to feel you as you enter him.”

Regis cried out and arched his back. Dettlaff growled, and Geralt shuddered as he began to press forward. Geralt allowed his fingers to dance between Dettlaff’s cock, and the ring of muscle he pressed against, stroking it, urging it to take the other into its depths. Geralt felt Regis relax, and then moaned alongside the other two, as he felt Dettlaff’s cock press in. The movement pressed Regis into Geralt, and Geralt huffed. His fingers were trapped. Dettlaff began to move, and then Regis’ hips withdrew. Geralt hissed as he felt the warm oiled slide into and out of Regis. The push forward would thrust Regis into him, and pleasure began to spark through Geralt… deep, driving.

Regis was calling out; vocal, beautiful, with every thrust. And Dettlaff was growling a low whining keen. Soon Geralt had to remove his fingers and brace himself, clutching at Regis’ side as the vampire was fucked into him. Dettlaff was kneeling and had a hold of Regis’ hips. Soon Geralt felt the pleasure racing through him once again as Regis’ body pressed down on him, and trapped Geralt’s slick cum covered cock between their bodies.

None of them were going to last long. They had all wanted this for too long. The pleasure, the feeling of them against one another was nearly too much, and before long Regis clung to Geralt, losing all semblance of control as he pushed into Geralt and thrust himself against Dettlaff. Geralt let his hand slip down, and he found Dettlaff’s. He weaseled his fingers under his grip, and took his hand in his. Blue eyes, filled to the brim with black, locked onto his. The hand squeezed, and Geralt felt himself smile, before Dettlaff pushed against Regis harder.

The rhythm became frantic, the speed increased. They were wrapped around one another, fused with one another in a way that was nearly impossible to describe. Regis arched up and turned, capturing Dettlaff’s mouth in a kiss. Dettlaff growled against his mouth, and the pulsing began to get erratic. Regis pulled away, and Geralt felt Regis’ claws, clinging to his shoulders. Geralt felt him thrust forward, and Regis howled.

Geralt cried out as well. He felt the cool liquid spill into him as Regis was pushed into Geralt. He felt his cock, pulsing, and his balls drawing against his own. Then Dettlaff, at the height of Regis’ pleasure, bit him. Regis’ hands flexed, and the claws pierced Geralt’s shoulder. The pain, and the feeling of being filled caused Geralt to buck upwards, orgasm washing over him for a second time. Geralt felt Regis pushed against him, and Dettlaff howled, releasing Regis’ shoulder once again, as his hips milked into him, pushing Regis against him. Regis sobbed against Geralt as he collapsed, and Dettlaff hissed.

Geralt panted into Regis’ shoulder, and Dettlaff collapsed on top of him. Geralt could feel the cum leaking from Regis, and dripping onto him. Geralt felt Dettlaff’s hand squeeze his, still locked in its firm grip, and Geralt nuzzled against Regis’ ear.

“I love you.” Geralt whispered. Regis twitched against him. Geralt let go of Dettlaff’s hand and the vampire’s eyes shot open. Geralt wriggled his arm out from under Regis and stroked the dark haired vampire’s face softly.

“And I think… I think I am falling for you too.”

Dettlaff’s face softened, and he clasped against Regis. Geralt felt Regis shuddering against him, and soon realized he was crying.

“Hey now… hey… it’s ok.” Geralt reached up and stroked Regis’ hair. Dettlaff pulled away from them, and then gently dislodged Regis from Geralt. He laid the sobbing vampire in the bed beside Geralt, and Geralt turned to him, and wrapped him in his arms. Dettlaff laid down beside Regis, and did the same. Dettlaff’s hand entwined with Geralt’s as Regis wept, and they comforted the overwrought vampire.

“We have you Regis, we won’t leave. We love you.” Geralt whispered against him. “We have each other, we will figure this out.”

“We love you.” Dettlaff whispered as well. “You hold our hearts, and we will hold yours… together.”

Regis sobbed, hard; he was shaking, and his breathing was labored. And they laid, together, stroking, and calming, till Regis began to calm, and then lost consciousness. When his breathing eased, Geralt relaxed. Hand in hand with Dettlaff, he felt the darkness pull at him, and soon, warm, and wrapped in love and comfort, he felt himself fall to the pull of sleep.

END

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE THE DYNAMIC OF THESE THREEEEEEEE
> 
> and I need soft things to soften the blow of how... trying Baptism has been to write... SO THIS SHALL BE MY FLUFFY SERIES


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